Helena taps her chin a few moments before resuming her thumbs faster than lightning can strike action.

Helena: Ok. Suggested locs for search?

More introspection, then, quiet. In flesh, Ghost raises one foot up above the bed and splays his toes, studies the ceiling between the webbed V's. The whore beside him remains asleep under the frozen undulations and puddles of linens, the meager noise of button-clicks and MIDI tings inadequate to wake her.

Teo: Outside Pinehearst Tower. Discreetly. I'll let you know when.

Helena is in Cat's penthouse, sitting comfortably enough on the woman's couch. The trappings are less sordid, but in a way, more secretive.

Helena: Alright. You realize I'm never as discreet as I try to be?

That's Helena's fear talking. This is important, and it doesn't need botching up.

I watch the news, Ghost responds genially. That probably means Yes.

She can't help but laugh. And for a long time, she goes silent, and maybe he'll even think that he can wake up the hooker and see about a round of in and out, but then there's the familiar message beep.